It seems the older I get the more forgetful I am. I mean, for instance, things that I would never have second guessed myself on just a few years ago suddenly require a quick glance at the original to make sure I’m doing it right. This goes for recipes or cleaning or whatever. Okay, so maybe only the foods I don’t make all that often require me to look at the original recipe every now and then, but still, I used to be able to look at a recipe once, make it, and continue making it over and over without needing to refer back. Not so much anymore.
I also have apparently gotten into the habit of forgetting my stuff at work. Yesterday as I walked through the house door and realized I only had my work bag (or my murse as my coworkers call it, but really it is just a market bag to keep my keys, phone, wallet and paperwork in… oh gawd, it is a murse!) in my hand and not the bag I had my Fall Quilt in, I screamed out an expletive. Then threw out another. And then decided what the hell, I wasn’t really going to work on it most of the weekend anyway since we are taking down our Christmas tree and North Pole Village today. At most I will have tomorrow after church, and since our church is the next street down from where I work, I’ll just pick it up after service. That is, assuming of course, I remember to do so.